


kiss me slowly, kiss me softly, be my baby

by primrosee



Series: welcome to earth c [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftercare, Dom Dave, Earth C, Emotional Sex, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, John-centric, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Polyamory, Sub John, Threesome - F/M/M, Xenobiology, dom terezi, i mean it's there yeah but it's not super visible?, i really like aftercare okay shush, more like gentle dom/sub, stupid jokes, welcome back to another segment of "caelyn can't write anything but non-explicit sex scenes"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 18:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primrosee/pseuds/primrosee
Summary: Everything is completely and utterly different;but no one ever said that was a bad thing.





	kiss me slowly, kiss me softly, be my baby

**Author's Note:**

> i can't come up with good titles lmao sorry  
> this has been sitting in my docs for like two weeks now so here it is
> 
> i still can't write non-explicit sex so ?!?!?

This is—different. Not bad different, you guess. Just—different. Terezi’s hands are tangled in your messy hair, her sharp yellow nails brushing carefully against your scalp. Your head is pillowed in her lap. Dave is sitting next to you on the bed, cross-legged, ghosting his hands over your clothed torso. He’s respecting your boundaries. Being sensitive, and all that jazz. It’s the same thing Terezi’s doing, but in her own way. They both have their own manners about handling your anxieties about—this. Them. You, and them, as a whole. A construct.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Dave mumbles against your lips when you lean to him for a kiss, grab for him like a child reaching for their parent. Terezi agrees with his sentiment, her fingernails still barely scraping your scalp. She isn’t trying to hurt you, that much you know. “We’ll be ready whenever you’re ready. We ain’t gonna rush you.”

“David,” Terezi gasps in mock-surprise. She knows he hates it when you call him David—she picked it up from Rose. “How dare you assume I would rush this gentle maiden that we have made our own? I am appalled and disgusted. 0/10 rating as a boyfriend, Dave. John gets an 11/10. I can’t believe you.”

Dave rolls his eyes. You smile softly, tipping your head back so you can look into Terezi’s solid red eyes. They used to freak you out, but you think that they’re good flashlights, especially in a pitch black hallway when you have to pee at twelve in the morning. “I think I’m ready,” you say to her, knowing that Dave is listening, too. “But not too far, okay?”

She nods, firmly. Pats your forehead. A promise— _you run this shit._ You sit up and shed your t-shirt, throwing it somewhere across the room. You don’t care where it lands. Terezi and Dave both follow suit. Dave’s chest is marred with scars, from past-strifes with his Bro, you guess; Terezi is wearing a lacy teal and red striped bra, her two favorite colors. They’re both toned and muscled, and you cover yourself with your arms, trap your torso in a prison. You’re embarrassed. Embarrassed by your baby fat, by the total lack of muscle on your body despite lifting a hammer all those years. You know you’re strong, it just doesn’t show as well, you suppose. You’ve always been a little chubby—you did actually like your dad’s cakes quite a bit.

When Dave touches your arm, it makes you jump, makes you snap back to reality. “It’s okay, John,” he assures, quieter than you’ve ever heard him be before. “You’re beautiful.”

You want to cry. In fact, you _do_ start crying. “I smell salty tears,” is the first thing Terezi says, and you sniffle and laugh. She wraps her arms around you, pulls you to her chest. Dave scooches up to you, his knees pressed right against yours. You let your guard down, physically and emotionally. You cry. You’ve always hated vulnerability—well, at least, showing it so openly—but Dave and Terezi aren’t here to mock you about emotions. They’re here to support you. “Hey, shoosh. You’re the best.”

The compliment only serves to make you cry harder. Terezi hugs you tighter, closer. Dave leans forward on his knees and kisses you, slow, soft, and painfully careful. You feel like such a baby, such a wimp. You hate yourself for opening up like this, and they both know it. Terezi kisses the nape of your neck softly, careful to keep her teeth away. Dave kisses you smoothly, like a piano piece played without a single note missed. “You’re not weak,” Dave assures you, because he knows you. He always has, no matter what version of him. “Stop beating yourself up.”

You count the number of Terezi’s gentle pecks on your nape, the number of times Dave’s lips touch yours, the amount of times they don’t. And you breathe. It’s your aspect, right? You should be a master of it, just like Dave is a master of time, and Terezi is a master of mind. You’ve gone slack after some unknown amount of time. If you asked, Dave would probably tell you how long it had been, but this isn’t about time. It’s about—you. You, Dave, and Terezi, as a unit. A home. A structure. “Further.” You say, and they understand.

Dave helps you wiggle out of your pants. Terezi makes a big show of taking hers off, and you laugh at it. Dave struggles to get his skinny jeans off for about two minutes, and you laugh alongside Terezi as you watch his unfortunate—but hilarious—struggle. Dave takes his spot on the bed. You’re sandwiched between the two of them, in your underwear. You’re all in your underwear. It’s very nerve-wracking, to say the least. They’re both so beautiful, so toned, so—strong. And you’re you. Inferiority washes over you like a wave, and they know.

Terezi’s hands are on your stomach, rubbing in slow circles. Dave’s hands are on your cheek, brushing your tears away softly. He counts them under his breath. You don’t like the fact that you’re so emotional, such an emotional wreck. You guess playing a game that killed your father and ended the world wasn’t exactly good for your psyche. “Can someone kiss me already?” You eventually say. They both laugh.

“I volunteer as tribute,” Dave says, which reminds you that you should have Terezi watch The Hunger Games sometime. She’d probably get a kick out of it. You all shift positions, and you end up in Dave’s lap with Terezi pressed against your side, peppering the free parts of your face with careful kisses. Dave’s lips move against yours slowly, languidly. Everything is so slow, drenched in this layer of molasses. That’s the best thing you can think to compare it to.

Everything escalates so slowly. It’s for your own good. If it went any faster, you’d be strung out so fast. Last time you tried this, you went too fast, too harsh, and it ended with you curled in a ball, crying for hours on end while Dave and Terezi whispered sweet nothings to you. When Dave’s hand ends up on your thigh, he kneads it gently, asking. You nod. He nods back, pushes his palm against you and resting his forehead against yours. You whimper, clinging to Terezi like a lifeline. She shooshes you, patting your cheek cautiously. Her claws are retracted. How didn’t you notice that until now?

The only word you can think of to describe the entire situation is slow. Slow, but good. The undergarments don’t come off for another good twenty minutes, but no one seems to mind. Terezi has this weird tentacle-like thing she’d named as a, “bone bulge.” It’s teal, like her blood, and it kind of has a mind of it’s own. It’s self-lubricating, you think. If the teal that’s now staining your sheets is any indication. You never really saw yourself as the dominant type, and boy were you right about that. Dave and Terezi take control of the situation. They run the show, but you can’t say you mind, because they always stay at the pace you need. Not the one you want, but the one you need.

They slip into you together. It’s odd, having two things in your body at once, especially when one is shaped so weirdly, when it can straighten itself out and coil back so easily, like a spring. Together, they push, back and forth, a strange one-two rhythm. One of them finds a spot that makes your knees weak, your thighs quiver, and your toes curl. You see stars. “There,” you whisper quietly, so quietly you didn’t think they’d hear you, but they do. And they fight harder to hit the spot, but they can’t quite get it down. You don’t mind.

Dave is pressed firmly to your back, glued to you by sweat. He kisses the back of your head, his breath ruffling your hair. Terezi is pressed to your front, your tense stomach pressed to hers, and she kisses you languidly, at a match with her pace. You start crying, like the ridiculous baby you are, but neither of them say that. Terezi wipes your tears away with her too-hot fingertips. Dave plays a beat against your hip. _How do I live without you?_

You sob openly, and spend yourself all over Terezi’s stomach. They hold you together like superglue holding a broken toy together, rocking in that same one-two motion while you shiver and whimper as you reach your peak. When you come down, you make sure not to be selfish—you rock yourself back and forth against them. Terezi finishes second, Dave a close third. You all lay there in silence for a few moments before they pull away, leave the bed and head for the bathroom, you’d assume.

Your sheets are now soaked in the color teal. Everything is so sticky and sweaty. You lay there, in the middle of the messy bed, curled in on yourself. You aren’t crying, anymore. It seems like an eternity before someone comes and picks you up from the bed—Terezi. She helps you stand, though you’re a bit wobbly on your feet. Wipes you down with a warm towel, kisses your head gently, and helps you get dressed. She puts you in a pair of her boxers and one of Dave’s shirts, but you hardly pay mind to it, too sleepy to really think straight.

“Great job, TZ, you ruined the fucking bed,” Dave says. You giggle, still wobbling like a bowling pin about to tip over. Terezi scoops you up in her arms again. You don’t fight it. “Where the hell are we supposed to sleep? In your creepy cocoon thingy? No thanks.”

Terezi probably rolls her eyes, but you’re too dazed to notice. “Well, it’s not my fault no one brought a bucket!” She exclaims.

“That’s ‘cause it’s weird,” you mumble, yawning.

“Shh, sleepyhead, the big kids are talking,” Terezi tells you, brushing a strand of hair from your head and laying a sloppy kiss on your forehead. “So sleep on the floor. That’s a thing, right?”

“With sleeping bags!” Dave whisper-shouts back, probably because he thinks you’re already asleep. Spoiler alert: you’re not. But he doesn’t need to know that. “We ain’t got no sleeping bags, you crazy troll woman. Listen, Egbert is already down for the count, so just take him in your weird fucking no-nightmare caterpillar cocoon with you. I’ll find Lalonde and make her help me alchemize a bed.”

“Humans can’t sleep in sopor slime, you’re all too weak,” Terezi replies. You giggle. “I thought you were asleep?” She says, changing her tune quickly enough to give you whiplash.

“Mostly,” you say back.

“Well, sleep, Strider and I need this time to argue amongst ourselves,” she says, firmly. You nod and salute, say, “aye aye, captain!” but you don’t actually go to sleep. There’s no way you’re going to miss this juicy action. “I’m not taking him in the recuperacoon with me, it’s dangerous for his small, fleshy human body. Especially a human of his size. He probably wouldn’t make it an hour in my recuperacoon.”

You are promptly handed off to Dave. Not exactly handed off, more like taken, but you digress. “I’m going to find us a damn bed to sleep on,” is the last thing you hear before you shut your eyes and drift off to sleep.

You give the sex an 11/10. Would do again. Maybe when you’re less sleepy.

**Author's Note:**

> this was pretty much just build-up, three paragraphs of Sex(tm), and fluff
> 
> back at it again w/ them headcanons, boys:  
> dave: 6'2, lanky but vv strong, tan  
> tz: i dunno, like 6'0 maybe? and muscled as fuck, she could lift ur sofa with one hand, don't play w/ her  
> john: 4'9 or under (short john is my true weakness), a pale, chubby babu who could actually kick your fuckin ass


End file.
